"Professor," Patient, but intent. "'S not about blame. 'M asking for your help."

A steady pair of eyes. Someone who knows the spirits and the people. If he has to spell it out any further —

"Said you know this place, and when it changes. You're a Watcher. 'M asking you to help us see."

His gaze is steady, flat against the dim; Veilfire reflected green on brown on black. Behind him, the table heaps with armor. Nothing's ever wholly at peace.

"The spirits here. Any who trust you more'n others?"